


Drawtober Ficlets 2020

by henriettas



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: F/F, Fictober 2020, M/M, POV Agatha Wellbelove, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pumpkin carving, Sweet, Watford (Simon Snow), a bit sassy too because this is peak-happy-relationship-simon we're talking about, aro spec Agatha because I love her, idk if it does since its just a bunch of ficlets based on my drawtober art, if that applies, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettas/pseuds/henriettas
Summary: A collection of Carry On ficlets I wrote in the captions of my drawtober posts on ig (some of them will have some new stuff added tho hehe)
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Agatha Wellbelove, Penelope Bunce/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 31





	1. Day 2: Pumpkin

**BAZ**

We're sitting in our kitchen, the day before Halloween, when Simon flings his arm across both our bowls of cereal to slap his hand onto mine. I flinch a bit at the suddenness of it.

"Christ, Snow, you're going to fling coffee halfway across the flat -!"

"Baz!" he interrupts my whining, "I know what we should do for halloween this year!" His eyes are twinkling in that impossible way they do when he's genuinely enjoying himself and feeling excited about life, and the bridge of his nose is scrunched up from the intensity of his grinning. I can never resist him when he gets like this. 

I sigh, and push my breakfast closer to the center of the table, just in case Simon decides to throw another limb across it. "Alright then, what is it? 

His giddy fingers wrap around my wrist and he stands up to lean over the table before promptly shoving his phone in my face. I squint a bit before reaching up to take the phone from him. When the screen is at a more reasonable distance I finally manage to catch a glance at what he's trying to show me.

"Really?" I shift my gaze between him and the image for a few seconds before I continue, "...Pumpkin carving?"

"Yeah! Oh come on, Baz, it would be so much fun!" He drops the phone on the table and laces the fingers of his newly freed hand through the gaps between my own. 

"The kitchen would be a mess, Snow. I don't suppose you plan to clean that up, do you?"

"We can put a towel on the table to catch the worst of it!" Simon can't do puppy eyes, but I'm weak for him and the weird face he pulls while trying, so I give in.

I run my thumbs up the backs of his hands. "Fine. Let's do it." He stomps around to my side of the table and slings his arms around my neck and head while... squealing?

"Fuck yeah! It's gonna be so much fun, I swear you won't regret it!" He slobbers kisses all over my face in between words. "I'll pick up some pumpkins after work today, and then we can carve them today after dinner, yeah?"

Who would I be to refuse him?

\----

“Okay... there! Three, two, one, aaaaaaaaaaaannndddddd..... TADAA!” Simon whips his pumpkin around at the same time as I turn mine to face him. 

“Oh, come on, Snow. How is that abomination of yours even remotely similar to my face?” I say as he wrinkles his nose at me and grins.

“I think I got it pretty spot on actually, if I do say so myself! Let’s see, fangs?” His eyes go between the pumpkin's carved surface and my mouth in mock consideration. “Check. Evil coded?” Simon lifts his hand, sticky with pumpkin juice, to my face and gently grabs my chin to turn my head side to side a few times over. 

I roll my eyes, but can't hold back the smile playing on my lips.

“Mm, yes, definitely 'check' on that one. Let's see, smug eyebrow up while also judging Simon Snow’s artistic ability?” He locks eyes with me. “Another check.”


	2. Day 4: Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha muses about her phone calls with Penny, and her return to England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suggest you listen to "Kiss me thru the phone" by Soulja Boy while reading this, it'll do ya good

**AGATHA**

Ever since I went back to the States to pack up my belongings, I’ve started answering Penny’s calls instead of ignoring them like I used to. 

We talk almost every day — wether it’s by voice or by text. She couldn’t come with me back to California because of the trials her, Baz and Simon are going through.

“Serves you lot right for being illegal,” I laughed at her when she told me about their pseudo-imprisonment in London. 

She had shot back, “Whatever, Agatha; at least we weren’t kidnapped by some multilevel marketing vampire cult.”

So I'm back in Cali alone, without her. She still sits up with me, despite the difference in time zones, while I gather my clothes into boxes and take my furniture apart for easy storage. The plan for after I return is still unclear - so many things are. I have never felt closer to Penny than I do now, and I remember when I used to wish that I'd feel anything towards anyone at all. I don't think I'm in love with her, not really; but I miss her on the days I don't hear her voice, and whenever I see her face pop up on the screen of my phone my heart starts beating a bit faster. I miss her. A lot.

Back on track, however. 

I don't know where I'm going to live when I go back. Maybe Baz will let me stay at his flat for a while, or maybe I'll find some place small nearby London (who am I kidding - I'm not going to find a place I can afford right now anywhere close to London). Going back to living with my parents, after the deal I made of leaving, isn't an option; if I go back, I don't think I'll be leaving there again any time soon.

I can’t believe me and Lucy are going back to England already. Part of me thought (read: hoped) that we never would. I was ready to stay here, maybe forever. But I can’t run from the world of mages anymore. It’s proven to find me wherever I go; follows me across oceans, continents. Going back to Watford and helping out there was the final drop, and I’ve decided to run into it head first. 

I’m much stronger than I thought I was. And I’ve had enough of hiding from my magic.


	3. Day 6: Close

**BAZ**

I'm so tired of this.

I am, once again, stuck with Snow, waiting for the Mage to return from whatever pillaging of magickal artifacts he's been up to lately. Snow has been huffing and puffing the entire time: he spent the first quarter hour alternating between pacing the hallway and perching on the very farthest part of other end of the small bench outside the Mage's office.

Snow stands up and knocks at the heavy wooden door again, tapping the fingers of his other hand against the outside of his thigh in a rapid non-pattern. He knocks once more, harder now, before turning his back against the wood and running his hands through those golden locks of his, growling.

I'm not looking. I'm not listening. (I'm definitely _not_ saving the sound of that growl to my memory).

I uncross my arms and close my eyes, resting my hands on the cushion next to me and leaning forward in an exhale.

There's a dull thud as Snow drops onto the bench again, and I steal a glance. He's mimicked my pose to some extent - his hands are clenched next to him; his right one is dangerously close to my own. I can feel the heat radiating off of him (human furnace), and I dare look down at our neighboring hands.

Simon’s knuckles are busted and bruised as always, and his hand fidgets next to mine. He keeps picking at the cracks of the worn pleather seat, tearing new holes in it, yanking at the loose fibers.

Some deep, hidden part of me wants to cover his ever-moving hand with my own; I shove the thought to the very back of my mind.

I close my eyes again and let the agonizingly slow time pass.

\----

We’ve been sat here for close to two hours now; Snow’s twisting and fiddling has gotten progressively worse since we hit the 30 minute mark. He’s busy stomping his feet; he was tapping them before, but now he’s full on stomping, the numpty; and staring at the door as if he’ll summon the Mage just by thinking about it hard enough (maybe he could? Snow is a magickal mystery, after all). 

His focus is on the door, and he's paying me no mind, which gives me the opportunity to properly stare at his hands. 

They’re dry; there are red cracks in the skin, always present no matter the season. His nails are painfully short; he has a habit of biting and tearing at them in class. They’re littered with scars; temporary, fading ones, and larger, deeper, permanent ones. (Some of them have, indirectly, been caused by me).

His right hand is still dangerously close to mine; if I was less of a coward, and more of a disappointment to my family name, I might reach out and grab it. 

But I don’t. I have enough dignity to not trick my mind into believing that I'd ever get to hold his hand. I'm never going to hold hands with Simon Snow. 

Despite how much I want it. 

Despite how close his now unfurled pinky is to my own.

Never.


	4. Day 7: Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny decides to take action

BAZ

"No, Simon. You can't be in here while I do this." Bunce pushes Simon out of her empty room. He pushes back, and I follow him into the darkness. He keeps pleading with her.

"But Penny, what if something happens to you? I should be here at least!"

Bunce snaps the fingers of her bejeweled hand and the candles placed all over the floor light up.

"I can handle this on my own, Simon," she says before gesturing at us.

I feel myself move backwards, against my will. Simon seems to do the same. We stagger out, leaving Penny in the middle of the room, in the midst of a hundred fires. Simon lets out a weak “Penny...!”, but Bunce stands her ground. 

“I’m doing this alone, and that is final. We can’t risk having more people than absolutely necessary in the room during the summoning, someone could get hurt.”

“But we can’t risk you getting hurt, either! Penny, come on!” Simon protests. His hand is clenched tight against his hip, and one of mine gently push into his grasp.

“Honestly, Bunce. Let me help—“ She turns towards me, and I lose the rest of my sentence completely. I sigh. There’s no convincing her when she’s decided to go through with something. I place a hand on Simon’s face.

“Simon, I think it’s best we leave her alone.” 

“Not you too, Baz! I should be there at least, it’s _my parents_ she’s contacting!” 

Penelope Bunce looks at me again. I usher Simon out of the doorway while he protests, and we hear the door shut softly behind us. 

Bunce, the madwoman. If anyone can succeed in finding the truth about Simon’s possibly dead parents, it's her.

**Author's Note:**

> The art that this was based on can be found on my instagram! (@ henreyettah) https://www.instagram.com/p/CF2uVvOgSrU/


End file.
